Samantha rubbed her hand over her face and closed her eyes tightly, trying to decipher the vague images currently floating through her mind as she attempted to figure out exactly how she had come to wind up in bed with her current companion.

Of all the mistakes she could have made, this was undoubtedly the worst.

"Martin?"

"How are you feeling?" he stifled a yawn and surveyed her analytically, sighing as he saw she had yet to open her eyes or remove her palms from her face.

"What happened last night?" she gingerly removed her hands from her eyes and blinked against the harsh morning sunshine, finally settling her tired eyes on his.

"You don't remember?" he asked, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck as he looked down at her dubiously.

"Not really," she shook her head, ashamed to admit that she could've woken up beside anybody that morning and had no real recollection of how she got there.

Sam sat up slowly and placed her hand to her temple as the room spun unsteadily around her, edging up the bed and sitting back against the headboard, noting that she was still fully clothed in her shirt and trousers, "We didn't…" she widened her eyes pointedly, looking away as she saw a hint of anger flash across his features.

"Of course not," he shook his head, disappointed she would even think he'd have taken advantage of her in that state, although it spoke volumes about the type of guy she apparently associated with.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that you'd… I'm sorry," she cast her gaze slowly around the room, settling on the chair where her jacket and purse had been placed along with his tie and jacket, their shoes lined up beside each other on the floor beneath it. She knew he must've put her to bed the night before but she had no recollection of it or even how or when he had shown up.

Martin sighed and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, running his hands through his hair as he leant his elbows on his thighs and bowed his head, listening as she cleared her throat nervously.

"What happened last night? I remember the bar…and…" she smiled wryly and rubbed her throbbing head, "I know there was tequila…and the guy at the bar, I…" she closed her eyes and winced as she recalled how she had been willing to go home with a man she now could not even remember by name.

Martin shook his head and looked at her in bewilderment, "You don't even remember the guy's name?"

Sam glanced up quickly as she heard the stark criticism and judgment in his tone, "Don't you dare judge me Martin," she said bitterly, now remembering why she had gone alone to the bar in the first place.

"Why? Why do you do this to yourself Sam?" he asked pleadingly, walking around the bed and sitting down in front of her as if to force a response.

Samantha shrugged and stared down idly at the throw beneath her, tracing her fingertips over the fabric of her pants, "He wanted me."

"For the night," he said incredulously, not being able to believe somebody he thought was so amazing and beautiful could really have so little appreciation of her own self worth, "you're worth so much more than this Sam…"

He raised his hand slowly to her face and gently lifted her chin to look him in the eye. Sam quickly turned her gaze from his and stared down at the floor as she felt tears begin to prick her eyes. She felt vulnerable enough without having him see her cry.

"Please go," she said quietly, her breath catching as she felt a cascade of unshed tears begin to burn the back of her eyes and throat.

Martin brushed his thumb slowly down her cheek and then quickly rose from the bed, walking out into her bathroom as she merely stared at him in confusion.

He returned moments later with a glass of water and two small Aspirin in the palm of his hand, "Here, take these."

She dutifully took the pills and water, trying to ignore him as he watched her swallow down the pills and gratefully drank the glass of liquid, the cool water soothing her parched mouth, "Thanks."

Martin merely nodded and took the glass from her, placing it on the nightstand and then sitting back down beside her, staring down at his hands apparently lost in thought.

Samantha stared at him uncertainly, wondering why on Earth he persisted in being so good to her. He really was a good man, she had known that for a long time and she felt both ashamed and guilty for how she had treated him in the past.

He was too good for her and she knew that. He deserved to be happy with someone and even if that person wasn't her, she hoped he had finally found the women he would be able to share his life with. Even if the idea of Martin with any other woman was like a dagger to her heart, he had to move on; he needed to move on from her.

"Why didn't you tell me?" her voice was little more than a whisper.

Martin looked up at her and shook his head determinedly, "I don't know Sam."

Sam reached to her side and pulled the pillow onto her lap, idly fingering the edge of the cotton pillow case as she hugged it to her. It smelt just like him; that all too familiar, comforting, heartbreaking scent.

She smiled slightly as a tear tripped down her cheek, self consciously brushing it away before he saw, "So it's alright for you to move on, but not me? Is that it?" her tone was not accusing, just filled with sadness and regret.

Samantha frowned as Martin began to chuckle, she certainly found no humor in the situation.

Martin turned to face her and shook his head in disbelief, no trace of humor on his handsome face, "Moved on?" he repeated, blinking rapidly as he tried to process her accusation, "If I'd moved on I wouldn't have bothered coming after you last night. If I'd moved on Sam you'd be here lying next to that loser from the bar."

She blanched as he stood up and paced the floor irritably, rubbing his hand over the stubble on his jaw as he glared at her in astonishment.

"What's she like?" she knew she had no right to ask that question, yet she had to know who this woman was.

Martin shook his head, having no intention of discussing this other woman with Sam, "I don't want to do this."

"Please," Sam held his gaze and stared up at him until she saw the resolve crumble from his face, "I want to know."

Martin exhaled slowly and sat down on the edge of the bed once again. He hadn't wanted to tell Samantha about her before, there had seemed no point. He had only been on two dates with this woman and had been ready to break it off with her before Sam had spoken up the night before.

It wasn't fair to lead her on; he was still in love with his ex- and that was no way to begin a relationship with somebody new.

"She works for the DA's Office. From Long Island, she's smart… pretty," Martin sighed tiredly, "wants to get married someday…wants a family…"

In his mind or on paper at least, this woman was perfect for him and as he listed her many qualities he found the rational part of his brain angry at himself for dismissing her so easily.

Yet in his heart, there was only one woman he could ever imagine himself loving for the rest of his life.

Sam nodded, blinking as further tears tricked down her cheeks, "She sounds nice," she said hoarsely, "she's everything I'm not, huh?"

Martin looked up at her intently, wondering why she couldn't see just how much he loved her, why she insisted on thinking so little of herself when he would be quite prepared to give his life for her.

"That's the problem Sam," he purposefully held her gaze, trying desperately to convey how he felt, "she's not you."